


sic transit gloria mundi

by threeplusfire



Category: Yogscast "High Rollers" D&D Campaign
Genre: Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Death curse, F/M, Heterosexual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:25:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: After the final battle of Dead Reckoning, Tarin fulfills his bargain with Lilith for freedom from the Death Curse.





	sic transit gloria mundi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostofgatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/gifts).



> Sic transit gloria mundi is Latin for "thus passes the glory of the world." It's a phrase that was used for centuries in the papal coronation ceremony, and is weirdly appropriate.

The sight of Ulrich dying surprised Tarin. Nearby, Malice shouted something in a high, furious voice. Tarin felt an immediate wave of self recrimination. He had expected a betrayal from someone in the party during this entire ordeal. Expected and prepared for it constantly. Tholschank’s greed and the disasters of the magical traps made him discount him as his biggest worry in the final stages. He’d expected that he might have to fight Worthless, or perhaps Malice, in their misguided affection for Ulrich. But this was surprising, and not a small bit confusing. 

His fury at Tholschank for daring to try to thwart his plans coalesced into action. Tarin reached forward and grabbed Kallas by the collar, lifting him off the ground. He tore off Kallas’ arcane focus, a shining gold and silver bracelet. The metal crumpled in his gauntleted fist.  The red wizard lolled in his grasp, defeated in battle. Tarin felt a brief spark of satisfaction.

Turning, Tarin felt the weight of fury and despair in Worthless’ lightless eyes. She looked truly awful now, haggard. There must be a reason for it, but Tarin was beyond caring at this point.

“Let me have him,” Tarin demanded. He was so close now. If he had to fight her, he would. Tarin breathed deep, summoning the spark of the divine to draw her attention to him. 

“What will you do?” Worthless hissed. Her skeletal wings trembled over her head. 

“Kill him.”

“Will he suffer?” She glared at Kallas.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tarin said, as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Horribly?” Her black eyes snapped back to Tarin. 

“Very much so.”

“ _Then do so_.” Worthless stepped back with her ghastly aura. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Lilith said. She touched Tarin’s arm, and pulled them away from the material plane.

Shifting between planes felt peculiar, a sense of motion despite standing still. Tarin suspected a lesser man might throw up from the disconnect. The world seemed to blur and melt, and he could not help but close his eyes for a breath. The motion stopped. They were somewhere else entirely.

Tarin let Kallas drop to the ground. He knew of this kind of magic but he had never experienced it before. The ceiling rose high overhead into a dome. Lights speckled the darkness, bits of glowing crystal set into the stone. Against the grey and black walls of the cavern, pillars of crystal radiated a bluish white light. It was an eerie, peculiar place. Tarin got the sense it was larger than it appeared. He glanced around, but did not see any entrances or exits.

“Is Lilith really your name?” It was the first thought that surfaced as he steadied himself. 

“My dear Tarin, do you care so much?” She smiled, her hand still resting on his arm.

“I’d like to know what to call you.” Tarin shrugged. “We are going to have a child, after all.” He ached all over, the mingled effects of the curse and the battle. His stomach roiled with acid, and his chest burned. His lungs felt scorched. 

Lilith glanced at the unconscious red wizard at her feet. 

“There will be time to answer such questions when we finish this,” she said.

Magic glimmered at her fingertips. She crouched down beside Kallas, gripping his jaw. Tarin watched as her long fingers reached into the man’s mouth. She yanked her hand free. Blood flowed down his chin, soaking into his beard. Lilith stepped back, considering the tongue in her hand. Blood dripped down her hand, along her leather bracer.

“I never realized how long a man’s tongue truly was,” Tarin said. He tilted his head to the side, staring curiously as Kallas moaned and curled into himself. “Won’t he drown in his own blood?”

“No.” Lilith tossed the tongue away. It left a bloody smear on the ground. “There’s not that much. But now we require another for our purposes. One will die, and one will take the burden of the curse from you.”

“Let’s go fetch him.” Tarin extended his hand to Lilith. Surprise flitted over her face at the gesture. She placed her bloody hand gently on Tarin’s gloved one. Lilith’s red eyes sparkled in the cavern’s light, and she smiled. Behind her, the rock floor rose up to imprison Kallas. 

 

* * *

 

“He is dead?” Worthless stared, her face a cold mask. Her pale garments were stained with ash and dirt. The spectral wings were gone.

“He is dead,” Tarin agreed. “It is over.” It would be soon enough. Time moved differently in the planes between worlds. It didn’t matter. Kallas would die.

Tarin looked around, surprised by the scene. Ulrich wheezed, blood soaking his tunic from the stab wound to his neck. He held one of Malice’s weapons. An empty potion bottle lay on the ground. Malice loomed over Tholschank, her lips pulled back in a snarl.

“What has happened here? Why is he alive?” Tarin asked.

“Because he did not deserve to die,” Malice snapped.

“I agree. _Tholschank_.” Tarin stormed towards the gnome. He would not be denied, not when he was so close.

“Tarin, whatever your plans with Lilith I can’t let-” Tholschank began to speak rapidly, holding a hand up as if Tarin could be placated with mere words.

Ulrich put his hand on Malice’s arm, and staggered to his feet. He glanced at Tarin, and his eyes held an unreadable expression.

“Let us go home," Ulrich said. Malice and Ulrich began walking towards the ship. Worthless trailed them, a weary old woman carrying a spear. 

Nervously, Tholschank pulled his weird little golem pet out of his pocket. It sat down heavily on the ground, squeaking. Tarin eyed it, and dismissed it. 

“It’s a shame your little creature doesn’t have a soul,” Tarin growled. He grabbed Tholschank by the throat, so the gnome was barely on his toes. “You don’t want to see the world that comes of my little child? Then you don’t have to be a part of it.”

“You were probably the strongest ally I had and I trusted you,” Tholschank said. “But these schemes you’ve been having with Lilith are too much to bear.”

“My little gnome, that was your _first_ mistake,” Lilith said, her voice low and menacing. She smiled, a false sweetness like poisoned honey. “The _second_ , I’m afraid you won’t live to regret.” 

Her hand rested on Tarin’s arm. The world blurred, and Tarin closed his eyes as they planeshifted again. When he opened them, they were back in the vast cavern. 

Tarin tossed Tholschank to the ground. The deep gnome rolled and bounced across the rock. He crashed into the plinth in the center of the room. Tholschank groaned, climbing to his feet. He recoiled when he realized his hand landed in a pool of blood. 

Above him, a cage rose out of the rock. Shimmering obsidian bars surrounded the unconscious form of Kallas. Blood seeped from his numerous wounds, staining his robes darker. His face was pale and haggard, eyes closed. 

Lilith patted Tarin’s arm, and stepped away with a smile. She draped herself on a nearby rock, stretching her legs out. In her red leather armor, she looked quite demonic. Lilith inspected the blood stains on her hand.

Tarin looked back to Tholschank, who was looking around for an escape. 

“There is nowhere for you left to go.” Tarin held Grief at his side. 

“Where have you taken me?!” Tholschank demanded.

“A little out of the way place, where no one can disturb us.” Lilith grinned. Her teeth were pointed. “Home away from home.”

Tholschank scoffed. But Tarin noticed him gripping his weapon with whitened knuckles. His red cloak flared around him when he turned. Tarin hated that dreadful thing. Perhaps it could be burned, afterward. 

“Don’t do this, Tarin,” Tholschank said. He edged sideways, his eyes darting around the cavern. “Making deals with demons never ends well. Would Tempus approve?”

“Tempus will be pleased if my work brings him greater glory,” Tarin said slowly. “Raising a child to be a mighty warrior and leader, whose victories will honor Tempus and surpass my own - he will not care if my child is of mixed parentage.”

“But this-”

“Tempus is not bothered by your petty ideas of right and wrong.” Tarin smiled slightly. “He knows that many forces drive war, and does not discriminate between them. All Tempus desires is to see war fought fearlessly, with honor.”

“What honor is there in murdering me for the succubus’ ends?!” Tholschank shouted. He looked offended.

“I am not _murdering_ you,” Tarin said. It was his turn to look offended, eyebrows raised. 

“Bring some honor to the end of your miserable life and die in battle,” Tarin demanded. His voice boomed, echoing in the cavern’s enormous space. The power of his divine calling infused it, as he once again tried to compel a fight. This time it was successful.

“Fighting with that giant sword against this one is hardly a fair fight,” Tholschank grumbled. But he squared himself against Tarin, pushing his cloak over one shoulder.

“No one said it had to be fair.” Tarin swung the sword at Tholschank. He managed to dodge at the last second. Tarin fought with grim purpose, swinging a blade nearly as large as Tholschank. He was weary, and Grief was heavy in his hands. But honor and glory demanded he fight, and the hymn of battle thrummed in his muscles. Tarin would win, even tired and wounded from fighting Kallas. He had no doubts in himself, or in his god.

Tholschank tried to stay out of his reach. He darted from side to side, trying to find an advantage. The heavy plate armor meant Tholschank could not cripple him so easily, as he had done with the assassins. Tarin swatted him away with the flat of his blade. They circled each other, Tholschank trying to stay out of reach and Tarin seeking to close the gap. He was much slower, not as nimble. But it would only take one or two blows to finish the gnome.

Tarin felt the magical attack, blackness creeping into his vision as Tholschank muttered gnomish phrases. He shook his head, willing himself to overcome the spell. Planting his feet, he cried out to Tempus.

“ _In your name!_ ” Tarin roared. He swung Grief forward in both hands, driving it into the stone. The blinding light bloomed around him. Tholschank staggered back in his rush to attack Tarin. Even Lilith turned away from the divine light of Tarin’s spell.

The blackness faded from his vision, and Tarin pulled Grief from the stone. 

“Fight me,” Tarin commanded. He swung his sword. Tholschank desperately tried to block the downward stroke. His sword cane shattered, sheared in two. Cursing, Tholschank rolled away. Tarin stomped a foot down on the trailing end of his cloak. Tholschank jerked to a stop. He gagged as the clasp of the cloak dug into his throat. Tarin smashed his blade down again. Tholschank scrambled to the side, but not quite enough. The steel bit deep into his leg. Tholschank screamed, shrill and frightened. He ripped away the clasp of the cloak, crawling away from Tarin. Blood stained the ground.

Straightening, Tarin glanced at Lilith. The bright daylight of his spell had faded, and she sat with her hands folded on one knee. She rose from the rock, stepping forward carefully to stand beside Tarin.

“Does it matter whose hand strikes the blow?” Tarin asked. 

“I must merely be here. Close enough to touch so that I might take his energy.” Lilith licked her lips. Her expression was hungry, and unsettling. 

Tholschank cried out in pain, as his leg gave way when he tried to stand. He knelt, glaring at them furiously. Breathing hard through clenched teeth, Tholschank pulled a pair of slender knives from his coat. He flung them towards Lilith. She batted them away easily, and they clattered to the floor. The sound echoed, along with her laughter.

Tarin strode forward the few steps between them. He smashed the pommel of the sword into Tholschank’s shoulder, knocking him onto his back. He screamed, and Tarin heard the sound of bone cracking. Tholschank’s face paled to a sickly grey. He rolled half onto his side. Tarin kicked him in the stomach, forcing him onto his back once more. Tholschank screamed again when Tarin’s boot pressed into his broken arm, grinding the bones against the ground.

“You were so _close_ , Tholschank.” Tarin held the tip of his sword under his chin. “So close to being free to leave Thay with the answers we came to find.”

“Go to hell, Tarin.” 

Tarin felt his lips pull into a half smile. 

“Well, if I am to raise a cambion child, it seems like I’ll probably be spending some time there.” He chuckled, amused at the prospect. “So your wish is granted.” 

“Don’t do this, don’t do this-”

“Die with honor, Tholschank,” Tarin said wearily. “Don’t embarrass yourself.” He could feel Lilith behind him, and resisted the urge to look at her.

“Bring him closer to Kallas,” she said. 

Tarin reached down and grabbed Tholschank’s cloak. He dragged Tholschank over towards Kallas’ cage. While he wasn’t looking, Tholschank stabbed him. The slender point of another dagger found its way between the plates of his armor, just above the knee. Tarin grunted at the sudden, sharp pain. He stopped, and kicked Tholschank hard in the stomach. There was a sickly crunch. The gnome groaned, still gripping the knife.

“I’ve had enough of you. Too many comrades have betrayed me. You are weak, and I will suffer it no more.” He drove the point of Grief into Tholschank’s chest. The sword screeched at the taste of blood, its wail echoing off the walls. 

Lilith stretched out a hand over Tholschank, speaking a demonic incantation. Tarin yanked his sword free as she summoned power from the death happening at her feet. Tholschank writhed, choking on blood as the light faded from his eyes. Tarin felt the air stir as the magical currents swirled around them. Lilith drew on the power of Tholschank’s death, wrapping it around herself like a mantle. 

Lilith spread her dark wings with a snap. Power haloed her, a reddish glow that burned in her eyes. She stepped forward to place a hand on Tarin’s cheek. He remained still and stoic as her magic poured into him, a torrent that burned as it slid through his veins. Tarin thought he could almost see it, like a dark smoke. Lilith’s voice was loud, speaking words in an Infernal tongue. The burning intensified and for a moment he almost thought she had betrayed him.

Then she stepped back, drawing the magic with her. It hurt, leaving his body. Tarin forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching the pulsing power flow out of him. It was black now, a lightless, soulless black that poured out of his veins. It coalesced into a sort of smoke. The writhing smoke covered Kallas, and his body spasmed horribly. He made a horrible sound of pain as the blackness entered into him. Within seconds, it filled him. 

They watched as Kallas thrashed in his cage. His skin tightened over his body as his flesh shriveled, his cheeks growing sunken in the space of breaths. His veins turned black under his skin. When he opened his eyes, they were filmed and vacant. From his tongueless mouth came weak, raspy sounds.

“He will remain here,” Lilith said. “The time of this place will hold him between life and death, and hold the death curse like a grain of sand on the lip of an hourglass. It will take a long time to die.” She looked inordinately pleased. Turning back to Tarin, she raised an eyebrow. “How do you feel?”

Tarin touched his chest. The wounds of the battle still ached. There were red, raw burns from the lightning bolt strike. Blood was dripping down his leg from Tholschank’s last attempt to save himself. But the hideous gnawing sensation in his gut was gone. For the first time in weeks, he did not feel like he was on the verge of vomiting. The constant ache in his head was gone.

“Much better,” Tarin answered. “Thank you.” He inclined his head towards Lilith.

“Good.” She looked at him. “Let us be out of here. Should we return to your companions?”

Tarin shook his head. 

“Malice and Worthless can find their way out of Thay.” He suspected they had no real desire to see him either. Ulrich certainly would not welcome his return. Tarin felt nothing for them. “I have what I want. There is no reason for me to return there.”

“Then we are quite free to go elsewhere.”

“Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“Mmm.” Lilith stepped adroitly around Tholschank’s corpse. “You have gotten what you want, and now it is time for me to get what I want.” She placed her hand on Tarin’s arm.

 

* * *

 

 

This time the plane shift did not make him quite so nauseated. He closed his eyes on the cavern, and opened them in a new place.

“Where are we?” Tarin asked. 

“A refuge,” Lilith answered. She reached up, and lifted Tarin’s helmet from his head. She set it aside on the table with care.

They were in a bedroom, hung with silk curtains that covered the windows. A fire burned in a carved stone hearth, warming the room. An enormous bed carved from crystal stood across from the fire, draped in heavy brocade blankets. The crystal posters of the bed reflected the firelight. The rest of the furniture was more ordinary, wooden chairs and a small breakfast table beside a shrouded window. Near the fire were other more comfortable chairs, and foot stools. A wardrobe stood on the opposite wall, beside a door. Tarin turned in a cautious circle, noting the heavy wooden doors. Tarin wondered how much of this place was truly to her taste, and what was the artifice of a demon like her. He’d never really known a succubus before, not so personally. 

“Hmm.” Tarin cast his senses forth, instinctively searching for danger. The room was powerfully warded, which did not surprise him. He did not sense any undead, but there was demonic presence. They must be in one of the planes of the hells. 

“We seem safe enough.”

“No harm will come to you in this place,” Lilith said. “It is my own, and well protected from uninvited guests.” She smiled as she spoke, picking up a heavy cloth napkin from the table. She wiped the blood from her hands. It stained the white cloth in streaks of reddish brown. She dropped it carelessly to the floor. 

Tarin wiped the blood from Grief carefully, and sheathed it. Then he knelt on the rug, and clasped his hands in prayer. As he gave his thanks and offered his victories to Tempus, blood trickled into the rug beneath his knees. It stained the pattern of golden vines, darker than the scarlet roses on their blue background.

As he prayed, he felt that trickle of divine energy flow through him. His relief was almost unbearable, and Tarin realized the fears he had not wanted to admit. But Tempus touched him with a feeling of approval, and Tarin closed his eyes tightly to keep from weeping. He had served, and brought honor through his victory in the battle with Kallas. 

He felt his wounds healing. They did not vanish entirely. Instead they closed, flesh knitting itself together. He would have to take some care and rest to fully restore himself. But he would not die, and Tempus was satisfied. His blood dried, and vanished like smoke. Tarin gave his thanks, and rose to his feet feeling renewed.

He found Lilith opening a door into an enormous bathing chamber. It was all gold and black marble. Above the bathing pool the ceiling rose a canopy of stained glass. Candelabra around the room were lit, the lights reflecting on the shiny surfaces. His steps echoed. In the mirror, Tarin caught his reflection and frowned at the battered state of his armor. He placed Grief on curiously convenient stand. 

“Your bring a lot of swords to your bath?” Tarin asked.

“I have looked forward to finding out what’s under all this armor,” Lilith said, her voice a throaty purr. She moved around him, helping him unbuckle and remove his heavy plate. Undressing after battle was a peculiar pleasure. He felt so light when the armor was gone.

Lilith peeled away his shirt, stained with blood and sweat. She stared at the scar on his chest, an enormous star shaped burn over his heart.

“How did you get this?” She held her hand over it, not quite touching. 

“I assume it was the killing blow.” Tarin looked at himself in the mirror. “I do not remember it. It was there when I drew breath again on a dead field.”

“Who were you fighting?”

“An army of demons.”

“Hmmm.” Lilith looked thoughtful.

“Why?”

“It looks familiar to me.” Lilith met his gaze. “Perhaps we both seek the same enemy.”

“Hmm.” It did not surprise him somehow, that Lilith might know of the demon that killed him. Tarin paused, about to strip off his undergarments.

“Are there servants here? Slaves?”

“Not any human ones.”

“Good.” He ignored Lilith’s whistle as he walked to the bath, back straight and head high. But his sober form collapsed in the warm water, and he sighed with pleasure. It felt very good to be alive. He allowed himself a moment, stepping down into the deep bath and submerging himself completely. The tub was almost big enough to float in, the sort of luxury he had never experienced. Not even in the high temples of Tempus, where the greatest priests and generals gathered, had he ever bathed in a giant marble tub. 

Surfacing, he wiped the water from his eyes. Lilith was directing a squat demon to clean and repair his armor. It looked a bit like a mechanical toad, a creature only a few feet tall of black and silver. It gathered the armor and carried it away, clanking noisily. It seemed entirely in her thrall. He couldn’t find any reason to worry about it.

Tarin found a bar of soap, and began to scrub himself. It had been entirely too long since he had the pleasure of being clean. The soap smelled like roses, tickling his nose. 

Lilith saunted to the edge of the tub and sat down. The tight leather creaked, and he let himself admire the way it molded to her body. 

“You look pleased.”

“It’s a very nice bath. Care to join me?” It was the most pleasant time he’d spent since he came back to life, in truth. He was not haunted by the ever present sense of dread or creeping sickness. He felt healthy, whole, stronger. He could serve Tempus well now with this renewed strength.

“Maybe next time. Now, you have lain with a woman before, haven’t you?” Lilith grinned. She unlaced the high boots she wore, pulling them off while she watched Tarin bathe.

“I have. My oath did not require celibacy.” 

“Are you any good at it?”

“I’ve never had complaints.” He ducked his head under the water, rinsing himself. Even under the water, he could hear Lilith’s laughter. 

“Is this form pleasing to you? Or would you prefer me to look differently?” Her hair shimmered, fading from red to white. Her skin darkened, becoming darker like a drow’s, and her ears elongated.

“Definitely not that,” Tarin said. He grimaced, wiping his face.

“Or I could make myself look more like the priestesses of Tempus.” Lilith’s hair darkened to brown, becoming short and cropped. Her features broadened, becoming more weathered. A scar bisected her eyebrow. In her leather armor, she looked startlingly like the women Tarin remembered from his early days in the service of Tempus. Tarin looked askance, and Lillith laughed once more.

“Perhaps a pretty little shrine maiden?” Her hair grew longer, into golden curls. Her face became more youthful, rosy cheeked and fair. Her nose was freckled, upturned at the tip. She batted her lashes, looking more like a young girl playing a coquette.

“I’m not into children.” Tarin frowned. He felt the stubble along his jaw, and reminded himself to shave soon. 

“Not so innocent then.” She let her hair turn back to red, the curls softening into waves. Her features sharpened, lips darkening from pink to red. She put her hands to her chest, sliding them over her breasts. “What about these? Bigger, smaller?”

“Whatever you wish,” Tarin said with a small shrug. He wasn’t, truthfully. A woman’s appeal wasn’t solely about the size of her bosom. 

“You have rather large hands,” Lilith mused. She stroked her chest again, and Tarin saw it swell slightly. The leather armor seemed to grow tighter, squeezing her. Tarin sluiced water over himself. She was starting to affect him. Or perhaps just the relief of being whole and healthy. He took a breath, and stood up. Lilith watched him, her red eyes examining him with single minded intensity. Tarin suspected if he didn’t bed her soon, she might eat him. There was something predatory in her gaze.

Tarin grabbed a towel from the pile beside the bath, and wiped himself down. He could feel Lilith’s eyes on him the entire time. It was enjoyable, in a way, to have her so intently studying the lines of his body. When he was finished, he dropped the towel on the floor instead of wrapping it around his waist. When he stepped up to Lilith he noticed she was quite tall, almost his own height. For some reason that detail pleased him. He wouldn’t have to bend down so far.

“I like you tall,” Tarin said quietly. He bent, sliding his arms around her. Tarin lifted Lilith easily, and carried her into the bedroom. Part of him was surprised she allowed it. But she was a succubus, he reminded himself. This was the sort of thing she lived for.

Tarin tossed Lilith on the bed. He yanked at the laces of her armor, tugging it off her and tossing it to the floor. She wriggled out of the tight leather trousers. Tarin pulled her silk undergarments off, feeling the fabric tear in his hands. Lilith grinned at him.

There was a giddiness in his head. He felt gloriously, painfully alive. They’d triumphed over the dire circumstances, and he was free of the curse. Despite everything thrown at him, he was alive.

Naked, Lilith sprawled on the bed with her arms stretched over her head. Tarin climbed on top of her. His hand wrapped around her throat. She looked up at his, her eyes half closed. He leaned in, squeezing. Her lips parted. Behind them, her teeth were sharp, pointed.

Tarin turned her head to the side, and put his mouth to her neck. She was warm, and her skin smelled faintly of leather. She moaned as he kissed her neck. His body pressed her down on the bed. Her hands slid down his back, nails just barely scratching his skin.

“How much of this is your magic, and how much of it is real?” Tarin whispered in her ear. His lips brushed her skin. Under his hand, he could feel the pumping blood, the breath in her throat.

“Just my natural charm,” Lilith purred. She arched her back, pushing up into him. The sensation of her bare skin, warm and soft, stirred a longing in him that he hadn’t felt in ages.

“Unless you want me to put on the full enchantment for you,” she continued. Tarin felt a spark of magic, like a hot breeze on his back. “If you’re uninspired.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Tarin kissed her jaw, careful to avoid her mouth. It was intoxicating, playing with danger like this. He could barely remember the last time he’d been naked with a woman. 

He cupped a breast in one hand, feeling her stiff nipple under his thumb. Shifting her moved to take it in his mouth. Her nails scratched lightly at his scalp, raking through his short hair as he kissed and sucked at her breasts. Tarin slid a hand down her ribs, and shifted so that he lay beside her. Her stomach was firm. Lilith parted her legs, nudging one thigh between Tarin’s own. His fingers brushed her dark hair, reaching lower to the soft folds of her cunt. 

“I did not expect such consideration,” Lilith said, her voice amused and husky. Her hips moved against Tarin’s hand, encouraging his strokes. 

“I’m a paladin of Tempus, not a rapist,” Tarin mumbled. He licked circles around her nipple, enjoying the feel of it in his mouth. Her chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths.

“Do you fuck as divinely as you fight?” Lilith teased.

“Let’s find out.” Tarin pressed a finger inside her. She was slick and hot. His cock ached, and he rubbed himself against Lilith’s hip. Her hand gripped his shoulder with bruising strength, encouraging him to move his hand faster. He bit carefully at her nipple and she hissed. He felt her clench down on his fingers.

“We can spend all our time on foreplay next time,” Lilith said. “Fuck me already, Tarin.”

Tarin rolled back on top of her, bracing himself on the bed. Lilith reached between them, wrapping a hand around his cock. Tarin’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let himself groan. It felt good, to be touched by someone else. Her hand slid down his shaft, the skin sliding, and he shuddered. 

“You and I might have to do this a few times, just to be sure.” Lilith’s voice made him open his eyes. She watched him, stroking his cock and sliding his foreskin back.

“A hardship I’m sure,” Tarin said, trying to control his breathing. 

“Very,” Lilith sighed as she guided Tarin’s cock inside her. Despite himself, he couldn’t stop from closing his eyes with a small groan. Maybe it was being curse free, maybe it was the ambient succubus magic, maybe it was that he had not done this in so long. Whatever it was, sinking into the heat of her body felt incredible. 

“If you don’t want to move, you should let me be on top.”

Tarin’s eyes snapped open at Lilith’s words.

“You want me to move?” He leaned in, putting his weight on his elbows. Lilith rolled her hips beneath him, and he bit down on her shoulder. Her nails dug into his back. Though he started with a slow and steady pace, he found his breath coming fast. Tarin thrust into her harder, increasing his pace to match the building sensation in the pit of his stomach. He felt Lilith’s mouth by his ear, the flick of her tongue on his skin. 

His arms burned, bracing himself on the soft bed. Lilith hooked one long leg around his waist, encouraging him with breathless gasps. Tarin groaned, burying his face in her neck as they fucked. 

Tarin so rarely let himself finish inside a woman. When he tried to pull away without thinking, Lilith gripped him with intense strength. She moaned something he didn’t understand, words that must have been demonic. Her legs wrapped around him. Tarin groaned, coming inside her. The pleasure rendered him incoherent, his body moving automatically. He thrust again a few more times until the high receded and he came back to himself. 

Carefully, Tarin rolled off Lilith. He collapsed on the bed with a great sigh. Lilith stretched voluptuously, toes and fingers curling as she lifted her limbs. 

Tarin reached for a pillow, pulling it closer. Then he surprised himself by reaching for Lilith, pulling her closer. He closed his eyes, and told himself it was the ambient magic that made him feel so relaxed with her. Fortunately she did not say anything. Instead she rested her head on his chest, one arm draped loosely over his waist. The fire crackled, and Tarin allowed himself to doze a bit. With the windows covered, it was impossible to say how long they remained like this. 

“Tell me,” Tarin said quietly. “I thought that bearing a cambion child always killed the mother.”

“Because the mothers tend to be human, and humans are fragile vessels.” Lilith ran her hand over Tarin’s chest. Her long fingers mapped the edges of the pink scar.

“And it will not kill you?” Tarin knew she was far more powerful than she revealed herself to be.

“I’ve made a long study of these things,” Lilith answered. “I am prepared, and the risks are not great for me. A succubus is made of hardy stuff.”

“I am sure you have investigated every possibility.”

“Do you doubt?”

“No, I simply assume you are withholding information.”

Lilith chuckled.

“It is a terrible idea to call the woman in your bed a liar.”

“But demons lie.”

“I have been truthful with you.”

“Why is that?”

Lilith propped herself up on her elbow to look Tarin in the eyes. Her irises were red, a dark color he could almost imagine was brown when they weren’t glowing.

“Because in this case, the truth serves me better than any lie,” Lilith said. “ What I want will take years. It is not something I would risk to a betrayal, to lies unfolding or a compulsion failing. What I want requires a willing partner.”

Tarin considered her face as she spoke. He considered casting a spell to compel the truth. But he’d already done that once. Her story had never wavered. She had lifted the curse from him. For good or ill, Tarin believed her. It felt refreshing. 

“I understand what it is to be betrayed, to be failed by those who are sworn to help you.” 

“Then we are alike in that way.” Lilith touched his face. “How did you get this scar?”

“My first battle,” Tarin said. Her fingers followed the cross shaped mark on his cheek. “We were fighting a force of drow, and had decimated their unit. I took my helmet off, but not all of them were dead. The drow managed to cut me twice before I killed him.”

“Surely you could have healed it.”

“I left it as a reminder to myself, to be more careful.”

“I am surprised you tolerated Malice then, given the experience.”

“It made me wary, true.” He shrugged. “The mission to Thay was not of my choice or design.”

“How surprising then, that she would be the only one of them not to betray you.”

“Indeed.” Tarin pondered that statement carefully. He suspected he would always find himself weighing Lilith’s words. “What did Worthless do that I did not see?”

“Worthless belongs to Orcus now,” Lilith said. “He owns her soul, such as it is.”

“Well.” Tarin sighed. “It’s not my problem anymore.”

“Indeed.” Lilith leaned closer, brushing her lips over his cheek. “Now you only have me, and our child, to be concerned about.” 

Tarin wrapped his arms around Lilith. 

“I had not ever thought I would have a family,” he said into her hair. “I thought it would be too much of a distraction from my service.”

“Here you can have the best of both.” Lilith’s hand stroked his head. Her voice was low, and soothing. “A little family, with a child you will teach everything you know about battle and war.” 

“A child who will grow strong, and powerful.”

“We will have to think of a name,” Lilith said, her voice breaking Tarin’s doze. “What might you call a daughter?”

“Gloriana, of course,” Tarin said. He turned his head slightly, speaking into Lilith’s hair. “Are you already certain?”

“I would like to have a daughter,” Lilith admitted. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Tarin agreed. Overwhelmed with the wonder of the idea, he kissed Lilith’s forehead. She nestled herself into his chest as Tarin stared into the fire. Weariness made his eyelids heavy. There was a pleasant sense of exhaustion in his muscles, the afterglow of sex and battle. The bed was soft, and with Lilith beside him it was warm. Tarin yawned again. He was on the verge of sleep.

“A happy little family…”


End file.
